


Table for Two

by Enfilade



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Love Triangles, M/M, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 11:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17059283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enfilade/pseuds/Enfilade
Summary: Tarn can't decide whose presence to command at his dinner table: his reluctant doctor, Pharma, or his new ally, Deathsaurus.  He never expected that either of them might actually want to come, let alone *both* of them.  Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence where Tarn, not Tyrest, fished Pharma out of the snow on Messatine.





	Table for Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Decepticonsensual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticonsensual/gifts).



> This is an outright AU, in which Tarn fished Pharma out of the snow before Tyrest did. As a result, Pharma is the DJD’s medic, held aboard the Peaceful Tyranny, when Megatron defects and Tarn meets up with Deathsaurus to get an army. 
> 
> This fic exists because @decepticonsensual agreed with me that watching Pharma and Deathsaurus fight over which of them got to be Tarn’s dinner guest would be highly entertaining.
> 
> Since it’s an AU, it’s not connected to any of my other fics. Nickel’s not in the story, though it’s entirely possible she could still be on the Peaceful Tyranny (working with Pharma – what a treat).

Table for Two 

Tarn rubbed his chin and contemplated his private dining room aboard the _Peaceful Tyranny._ It might be pleasant to have the company of a guest at his dinner table this evening. 

It had been some time—before this whole awful business with Megatron—since he’d permitted himself a night to bedevil his personal medic. Seeing Pharma again for non-medical reasons could be rather a lot of fun. 

Tarn knew he needed to value time spent enjoying himself. He had to prove that he could still savor life even after Megatron’s defection. It was important to make time for pleasures worth living for. 

In fact, Megatron’s defection could have interesting consequences for Tarn’s relationship with Pharma. Now that Megatron had abdicated, the Decepticon Cause was…why, it was whatever Tarn said it was. And _that_ meant that the pesky statute against intimate relations with members of the enemy faction could be stricken off the books entirely. 

He didn’t have to restrain himself to mere flirting any longer. 

Oh, Tarn had no intention of forcing himself on Pharma. He had more than his fill of brutality in his professional life, and it still made him feel vaguely nauseated, even after all these centuries. He had no interest in adding brutality to his private life. 

Seduction, on the other hand… 

Tarn wondered if he’d be able to _charm_ his medic into his berth. _Without_ relying on his Voice. 

That could make a most amusing entertainment. Tonight could be the first step in a game of chess that could end with a checkmate…in Tarn’s bed. His mouth watered at the thought. 

As the _de facto_ Emperor, Tarn decided that seducing Autobots was absolutely permissible so long as it did not affect a Decepticon’s professional obligations… 

Tarn’s good mood came crashing down. 

Because he _might_ have a professional obligation. His new field marshal, Deathsaurus. 

They’d only been allies a few weeks, but already the alliance was proceeding…well, suspiciously _well_. Tarn had expected some sullenness from Deathsaurus. Perhaps even a show of resentment that would require disciplinary measures via his Voice. Instead, Deathsaurus had proven to be enthusiastically cooperative. 

Tarn would be inclined to put such a response down to _abject fear_ , except that Deathsaurus had voiced just enough concerns and objections to make Tarn believe that the Warworld Commander did not scare easily. Deathsaurus certainly seemed to have no hesitation about expressing himself and, on one occasion, outright _insisting_ on a policy change. 

Tarn needed to get a better measure of the mech. A private dinner might be just the thing. It would be an opportunity to see Deathsaurus out of the work environment and observe how he conducted himself in a social situation when his guard was down. Tarn could ply him with engex, cajole him with pleasant conversation, and discover what made him tick. 

Maybe Tarn didn’t have to do it _tonight_ , but no sooner had he acknowledged the thought than he felt uncomfortable about putting it off. Deathsaurus was unpredictable and dangerous, and until Tarn figured out Deathsaurus’s motivations, his plans were at risk. His plans and potentially his life. 

On the _other_ hand, hauling Deathsaurus away from his duties would not set the mech at ease. There was no point in inviting Deathsaurus to a dinner where he’d be distracted and in a hurry to get back to work. It would defeat the purpose. 

So, a compromise. Tarn vowed that if Deathsaurus was not otherwise occupied, he would invite him for dinner tonight. If Deathsaurus was busy, though, then Tarn had no reason not to indulge himself with Pharma and leave his business meal for a more auspicious time. 

He couldn’t help but imagine Pharma perched delicately on his lap, protesting that _they shouldn’t, they mustn’t_ even as his body arched into Tarn’s touch. His spike stirred under his panel, and Tarn began to hope that Deathsaurus was hard at work in the engine room. 

Tarn walked up to the bridge of the _Peaceful Tyranny_ , where Kaon was hard at work on a datapad and Vos was on duty. Well, _allegedly_ on duty. His snickering and tittering suggested unusual levity for the tasks he’d been assigned. 

“Might I inquire what’s so funny?” Tarn asked. 

Vos could barely reply, he was giggling so hard. He choked out an answer before dissolving in gales of laughter. 

Tarn wasn’t sure he’d heard Vos correctly. “A _harem_? What?” 

Kaon looked up. “Show Tarn the camera,” he instructed Vos. 

Vos obeyed. An image sprang up of the hangar bay of the Warworld, where the _Peaceful Tyranny_ sat parked next to Deathsaurus’s flagship, the _Thunder Arrow_. Down below, Pharma leaned against the _Thunder Arrow_ ’s nose in a way that Tarn doubted Deathsaurus would appreciate. Deathsaurus himself was visible walking down the aisle of parked starships, heading their way. 

“Pharma’s been loitering there for the better part of half an hour,” Kaon explained. “As though he’s hoping to _accidentally_ run into you.” His emphasis suggested that such an accident would be deliberately engineered. 

If that were true… 

Tarn’s spark quivered at the possible implications. 

The words on Tarn’s lips – _Kaon, set my table for two –_ were swallowed back down. Tarn could give that order once he decided who his second guest would be. First, he wanted to observe the impending meeting between Pharma and Deathsaurus. 

Tarn remembered that Pharma and Deathsaurus really didn’t seem to like one another. Tarn couldn’t imagine why. Other than the obvious reason that one was an Autobot and the other was a Decepticon. Still, Pharma seemed to display a special amount of vitriol towards Deathsaurus, and as for Deathsaurus, he didn’t even try to hide his hostility towards Pharma. Tarn did not yet know Deathsaurus well enough to guess if he would show the same aggression to any other Autobot or if Pharma was a special case for reasons yet unknown. 

“Do we have audio?” Tarn asked, trying not to sound too eager. 

Vos nodded and activated the sound on the video feed. 

Down below in the hangar, Pharma stepped forward, likely having heard the footsteps of Deathsaurus’s approach. 

Deathsaurus angled his head towards Pharma, clearly aware of someone’s presence even though he shouldn’t be able to see Pharma yet with the _Thunder Arrow_ in the way. “Pharma,” Deathsaurus said by way of greeting, proving he knew exactly who was on the other side of the starship. 

Pharma leaned around the _Thunder Arrow_ ’s nose to see who was coming his way. His face fell into a scowl. “Deathsaurus,” he muttered. 

It was enough to make Tarn suspect that Deathsaurus was not who Pharma had hoped to see coming down the aisle. Was Pharma truly waiting for _him_? The notion made Tarn’s spark flutter with ridiculous delight. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Pharma asked petulantly as Deathsaurus came around the nose of the _Thunder Arrow_ and Pharma pivoted to face him head-on. 

“I need to talk to Tarn,” Deathsaurus said, as though Pharma’s presence was a minor impediment in an important mission. “I was hoping to discuss our recent joint maneuvers. Possibly over dinner.” 

“Dinner. _You_.” Pharma’s scorn was obvious. “You wouldn’t know an appetizer spoon from a dessert spoon.” 

“Oh, I’m sure Tarn does.” Deathsaurus did not seem concerned. “It’s not that difficult to observe and imitate.”   
Pharma frowned disapprovingly. 

Deathsaurus smiled, not deterred in the slightest. Tarn wasn’t sure if it was intended to be a mocking smile, or if it only looked like one on account of the way it displayed Deathsaurus’s fangs. “You’ll find I’m a quick study.” 

Arrogance, or confidence? Once again, Tarn couldn’t be certain. 

“I’m afraid Tarn is _indisposed_ ,” Pharma replied at last. “He doesn’t have time for the likes of you.” 

Tarn raised an optic ridge. He’d considered being indisposed, as Pharma put it, but he hadn’t yet summoned Pharma for a meal. Yet Pharma had taken it upon himself to keep Deathsaurus away from Tarn. 

It wouldn’t do for Tarn to overindulge Pharma _too_ much. The medic might begin to think himself entitled to some _liberties_ if Tarn spoiled him. Perhaps Deathsaurus _would_ be a better choice this evening, if for no other reason than to keep Pharma in his place. 

Deathsaurus also raised an optic ridge. “I think I’d rather hear that from Tarn himself.” 

“I’ll bet you would,” Pharma snipped. 

Deathsaurus raised the other optic ridge. 

“Oh, come along,” Pharma sneered. “I’ve seen the way you look at Tarn behind his back. Drooling like a turbofox in heat. It’s most unbecoming.” 

Tarn’s jaw dropped. 

Of all the possible reasons for Deathsaurus’s cooperation… _that_ was a reason Tarn had never even considered. 

More shocking still, Deathsaurus didn’t deny it. Instead, he smirked and said, “I suppose it takes one to know one.” 

Pharma’s reply was icy. “And what’s _that_ supposed to imply?” 

Deathsaurus shrugged and said casually, “It’s what you smell like every time Tarn walks into the room.” 

“You can’t possibly know that,” Pharma spat, outraged, which Tarn recognized was not the same as saying that Deathsaurus’s statement was false. 

Tarn began to get an idea of where Vos’s “harem” joke had come from. 

His mind whirled at the notion that his idea of seducing Pharma might be a lot easier than he’d thought. 

It whirled again at the thought that he could also seduce Deathsaurus. 

Deathsaurus grinned, displaying rather a lot of very sharp teeth. “You’re a medic,” he said softly. “Take a look at my medical file. Particularly the section on my sensor suite.” 

It didn’t sound like a bluff. It sounded like a challenge. Deathsaurus _wanted_ Pharma to look, knowing that the evidence was on his side. Tarn made a mental note to remember this fact about his new ally. Deathsaurus was the sort who could put his money where his mouth was. 

Pharma seemed to draw the same conclusions as Tarn, because he didn’t bother pulling out his datapad to check Deathsaurus’s file. Instead he drew himself up to his full height, perked his wings, and said, “I don’t need to check your file to know that you’re not Tarn’s type.” 

Until a few moments ago, Tarn would have agreed with him. Now, he had to admit a certain…curiosity…about his new field marshal. Confidence and skill had an undeniable appeal, if only Tarn could look past the package they came in. Beastformers were widely regarded as unattractive. 

Tarn summoned up a mental image of Deathsaurus underneath him in his berth, but he had trouble holding the picture in his head. 

Deathsaurus chuckled. “At least Tarn’s not liable to _break_ me.” 

_That_ crude suggestion utterly destroyed Tarn’s concentration. Particularly when Vos tittered. 

Tarn furrowed his brow under his mask. He’d bedded mechanisms more delicate than Pharma, and he hadn’t _broken_ any of them. 

But it _had_ required a good deal of delicacy and restraint. 

With a big brute like Deathsaurus, Tarn wouldn’t have to hold himself back. What would _that_ be like? He couldn’t help but admit a degree of curiosity. 

Pharma spluttered. 

Deathsaurus wasn’t done. He leaned closer and said, with a double wink, “Besides, I don’t think that _you’d_ be able to put so much as a _dent_ in _him_. And where’s the fun in that?” 

Tarn choked. 

Unbidden, his mind summoned up a scenario – Deathsaurus under him in bed, grabbing him by the throat, flipping the both of them over, lifting Tarn’s hands over his head and pinning him on his back in his own berth, and then… 

Why did his mask feel so _hot_? 

By Megatron! 

Tarn prayed the mask was enough to preserve the illusion of his composure. Vos was too busy giggling to pay him much mind, but Kaon was looking his way with a skeptical brow raised over an empty optic socket. Tarn felt almost embarrassed. _Almost_. The leader of the Decepticon Justice Division could not dignify such a conversation with a response. 

Outside, Pharma looked as though he were also trying very hard not to choke. Deathsaurus’s audacity seemed to have stolen Pharma’s voice, and his big, smug grin wasn’t helping. 

Pharma went on the offensive regardless, fixing Deathsaurus in a glacial stare, glaring down his nose at the contemptable upstart. His disdain was rendered all the more impressive by the fact that he could stare down his nose at a mech who was two heads taller than he was. 

The message was implicit in Pharma’s expression: Deathsaurus was a filthy beast, no fit match for an educated gentlemech like Tarn. 

Tarn wondered if Deathsaurus would accept the insult—conceding victory to Pharma—or attempt to debate it, revealing his own position of weakness. 

Deathsaurus did neither. 

The mech transformed into his creature mode and responded with a surprisingly eloquent hiss. 

As bestial noises went, Tarn had to admit that the hiss had quite a lot going for it. The sound displayed how wide Deathsaurus’s maw could open, and how very many teeth were in there—not one but _three_ rows of serrated daggers. Add onto that the flaring wings, making Deathsaurus appear even larger than his already considerable size, and the razor talons digging gouges into the hangar floor, and the lashing tail indicating pent-up energy ready to explode at any moment…well, the whole display was rather impressive. Deathsaurus clearly had no intention of letting his nature, or anyone else’s opinion of it, hold him back from anything that he wanted. 

Tarn felt torn. 

Pharma. Everything young Damus had wanted to be; everything Tarn wanted to possess. He was beautiful, accomplished, highly educated, and graced with impeccable manners. A delicious treat made all the more appealing by having been forbidden for so long. 

Or Deathsaurus, exotic and deadly. He might not be conventionally attractive, but Tarn did have to admit the mech could cut a rather striking figure. A mech who fought all comers and triumphed by means of raw talent and sheer _will to power_. Not unlike… 

…Megatron. The _only_ mech who Tarn had ever kneeled for. 

Tarn’s mouth went dry. 

Through numb lips, he gave his order. 

“Kaon? Set my dining room table…for _three_.” 

This might be a _terrible_ course of action. Tarn wondered if the evening might end in broken stemware, or worse. Yet Tarn wasn’t ready to choose between Pharma and Deathsaurus. Or to stop watching the fascinating drama unfolding before him. 

Some decisions were really too important to rush. 

__


End file.
